Appearances
by Quaxo
Summary: Kelso/Cox. The night was a washout... two men meet in a bar.


AN: AU, in some darker sadder universe than the show we know. Warning, dark subject matter. REALLY. Oh and I don't own Scrubs or it's characters, and if Bill Lawerence ever read this fic he'd be glad that was true.

Props to my beta and muse for this fic: nighthawkms.

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The night was mostly a washout… Normally about now he'd be at Soon Kim's massage parlor receiving a nice massage and a happy ending courtesy of Aoi's talented mouth. Unfortunately someone had tipped the police off to Madam Kim's back room pleasure den. He'd spotted the flashing lights in the parking lot just in time. That would have been awkward.

So he goes to the bar; he isn't going to kid himself into thinking he can pick up any tail there… well he could, because he is still a charmer, but then he'd have to find a hotel room and Enid has been going over his credit card statements with hawk eyes recently.

Oh well, a few beers and he'll be ready to head back home.

"Beezlebob!"

That can only be one person… He spots Perry Cox, chief resident pain-in-his-ass, hanging onto the bar like it's a life raft. He's fairly deep into his cups; his cheeks red, his eyes glassy, and a great big grin plastered across his face. What that moron is thinking, getting plastered when he knows damn well he has a double shift the next day, Kelso doesn't know.

He ignores the other man, takes up a stool on the opposite end of the bar and is about to order a beer. Perry will find someone else to harass soon enough.

"You know him?" the bartender grumbles, pointing out Perry, who is now arguing with another one of the bartenders. "You'd better get him out of here before we throw him out."

It figures that Perry would find a way to ruin his night. He is tempted to let the police handle this, but then he'd have to find someone to fill in for Perry's shift, not to mention all the bad publicity for the hospital if the guy got nabbed for a DUI. There is also the tiniest part of him that feels sorry for the bastard, what with his ugly divorce from the bitch of the board room. No man deserves the complete castration that Jordan Sullivan seems intent on.

He can put Perry in a cab, but that would mean paying for it, and he isn't feeling that generous. He'd just find Perry's car, throw him in the back seat, take the keys and lock the doors. The hospital isn't too far away that Perry can't walk there tomorrow. Sighing, he pushes himself away from the bar and makes his way over to the larger man.

"Aww, c'mon don't be such an asshole, I'm fine…"

"Perry, time for you to go home," he grabs the other man's arm, prepared to struggle with him.

"Whatever, fuck this place…" Perry grumbles, following him obediently. If he'd only known that scotch was the key to getting Perry's obedience, he'd have kept a fifth on him at the hospital.

Once they made it out into the parking lot, Perry clings to him for lack of any other solid objects to support himself on. He can smell the scotch on Perry's breath, hot and wet against his neck.

He searches the parking lot for Perry's distinctive black Porsche. Typical that the man owns an arrogant jumped up Volkswagen Beetle - he is an arrogant prick. What is wrong with a good solid American brand like a Cadillac? Now there's a real luxury car with lots of leg room, and plenty of room to throw down in the back if you didn't mind stains on the upholstery…

"Where'd you park your car, Perry?"

"Bitch took my Porsche… said she paid for it, but it was **my** money…" Perry slurs against his shoulder. "She can't even drive stick!" A sour laugh tickles the hair on the back of his neck. "Ride it, oh yeah, but not drive it, if you know what I mean?" Another laugh.

Well, that won't do. Damn. He can still call a cab… or he can just take Perry home himself and let the bastard know that he owes him. That ought to put him in his place for at least a few hours. Maybe it'll teach him not to get thrown out of bars at eleven o'clock at night.

They stumble through the parking lot, eventually making their way to his car. He manages to unlock the car doors and push the inebriated man into the back.

"Oooh, Bobbo, you know the rules, hands on top of the shirt," Perry cackles, sprawled across the backseat.

"Shut up, Perry," He grumbles, punctuating his statement by slamming the passenger door.

He gets into the driver's seat and starts the car, the engine roaring to life. Perry is mumbling something under his breath and giggling to himself. Who knew he was capable of being a jovial drunk?

"Where do you live, Perry?"

"At the hospital, 'cause you're a cheap bastard who won't hire more doctors."

"Hah hah. Perry, where the hell is your apartment or you're sleeping this off in my backyard. And Baxter doesn't like to share."

"Oceanview Apartments, over on third…" comes the drowsy response. He debates for a moment trying to keep Perry awake, but the appeal of Perry's mouth actually being shut for once is going to be worth having to haul his ass out of the car later.

Perry's apartment is about halfway across town, but it's a Friday night, so the streets are packed with people just starting their evenings. Lucky bastards.

He doesn't even really get the benefit of hearing Perry be silent for once; turns out he's a sleep talker. He does his best ignore it, but then he hears a zipper come down and a loud sigh.

"Dammit, Perry! You'd better not be urinating in the back seat or I'm--"

Only Perry's not urinating, he realizes as he cranes his neck back to look. Quickly he looks around for a place to pull over.

After all, Perry's pretty much screwed over his night, and he is driving the man home. Vietnam taught him not to be picky and to appreciate the charms of the male physique. It is a last resort, but Bob had to admit he is there. Besides, Perry owes him for going out of his way to haul him home.

He manages to find a pull out for truckers far enough away from the road that they won't be bothered. Alcohol seems to be working in his favor, as Perry is still working himself desperately as he parks, frustrated whimpers escaping his throat.

He unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly as quietly as possible, taking himself in hand with a hiss. A glance at Perry's swollen cherry red cock proves ample inspiration. It's a handsome thing, as far as cocks go, not too big or too small, with just enough girth to fill a palm. Just a little harmless mutual masturbation for the two of them…

Perry moves fast for drunk; one minute he's watching Perry jerking himself off, the next whiskey lips are pressed against his own, and fumbling hands grip his shirt and pull him over the back of the seat.

A hot mouth seals around his cock, sucking eagerly. He would have thought Perry would be a bit clumsier, but maybe 'Big Bad Dr. Cox' isn't as straight as he likes to let everyone believe. He groans and leans back against the car door. It can't be Perry's first time, but he's no Soon Kim either….

Then, just as suddenly as this whole thing has begun, Perry pulls away, leaving him on the brink of release. If Perry thinks he's going to stumble out and leave him hanging, he's got another thing coming. He grabs Perry's hip, eliciting a groan from the other man as he rolls onto his hands and knees, clutching the armrest on the door.

Maybe running off and leaving him with a bad case of blue balls isn't what Perry had in mind after all, as Perry's jeans slide off his hips, revealing a pair of plain white underpants. He pulls at the elastic, Perry's loud moan encouraging him to yank them down completely.

He fumbles quickly with his condom as Perry impatiently rocks back and forth on his knees. The next problem being lubrication, because it doesn't take a doctorate in medicine to know that the asshole isn't self-lubricating.

Another loud moan makes his decision for him, he's quickly spitting on his hand and coating a finger. Years of doing prostate exams makes this quick work, even with half-assed lube. Perry doesn't seem to mind from the way he's whining and slapping the door impatiently.

Someone screams as he thrusts into that tight hole… Maybe it's him because fuck, is Perry tight - if he's been keeping a boy toy, Perry's obviously topping. It could be Perry though; he's not exactly a small man after all.

He's never done this before… but he can understand the appeal to Harrison. This'll never compare to an hour with Soon Kim, but it's a pretty damn good substitute.

It only takes a couple more thrusts and he's coming, he chalks it up to hours of sexual frustration. Perry comes moments after him, body tensing hard enough that he opens the door and falls forward --

-- to vomit on the ground. Well at least he had the decency not to throw up in the car.

It's when Perry starts dragging himself out of the car, through his own bile and undigested alcohol that he gets the inkling that things might not be what they seemed. The sight of the unstained seat cushion confirms his worst fear.

This is not good. This is really, really not good. With the way his luck is running tonight highway patrol is going to pull up just now and won't this just be a wonderful situation to explain.

"Perry?"

"Fuck off, Bob," The menace in the words is shattered by the miserable hiccup that follows.

He watches, numb, as Perry pulls himself to his feet slowly, awkwardly buttoning the fly of his jeans. Perry's in no state to hitchhike, or god forbid walk home, he's going to have to convince the man to get back in the car. If only a cab would come out here…

Fuck, he should have just put him in the cab in the first place…

The creaking of the front passenger door startles him, and he almost doesn't believe his eyes when Perry drops heavily into the seat and slams the door shut.

"Take me home, Bob."

Well, he's not going to argue. He tosses the condom out on the ground, pulls up his own pants and slips into the driver's seat.

The drive to Perry's apartment is silent, not that he can think of anything to talk about. Perry stares ahead, face blank. That's perhaps the most frightening thing - the lack of expression. Perry usually yaps so much that he's gotten used to it; it's absence is instantly noticeable.

Finally, finally! He pulls into the parking lot of Perry's building, about to throw the car into park, when Perry grabs his collar again and jerks them face to face. Perry's eyes are cold and startling sober.

"Nothing happened tonight. Nothing. Happened. When I come back into work tomorrow, you're not going to make a single comment about it. If you so much as look at me funny, I swear to Allah or whatever god you prefer that I will kill you. Do you feel me Bobbo?"

He manages to nod and Perry releases him, pushing himself out of the car and stumbling off to the night.


End file.
